


Hidden Landscapes

by FrostedFlame (PinkOrchid)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Every boy loves a soldier (or two), Military Kink, Other, Scars, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:53:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5602411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkOrchid/pseuds/FrostedFlame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wonders why John is getting so flustered about a visit from his anti-social ex-Commanding Officer. What exactly was John's relationship to Sholto? And why is Sherlock himself so - interested? - in whatever is going on?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hidden Landscapes

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own these characters, merely play with them (a lot).   
> Not beta'd.

Sherlock glared at his flatmate over the edge of his newspaper (Tuesday's, but unread due to a case keeping them out of action for several days - therefore still marginally interesting).

  
"Just spit it out, John."

  
"What?"

  
"Something is plainly bothering you, most likely caused by the email in your inbox that you've re-read precisely five times. The fact that you have been fidegting since you read it and that you keep glancing from the laptop to me and back again is indicative of having something to tell me. Or more likely, ask. Dear God, it's not Harry wanting to come stay again, is it?"  
John sighed.

  
"No, it's not Harry."

  
He bit his lip.

  
"But, ahh, I do have something to ask. I mean, if not, it's fine. Really. But -" He paused and flicked his eyes back up to Sherlock's.

  
"And now we're back to where we began, John. Just. Spit. It. Out." Sherlock rolled his eyes for good measure.

"It's just that James, I mean Sholto. Major Sholto. You know. My old CO."

Sherlock rapidly schooled his face into a neutral expression, suddenly very interested in this topic of conversation. He slanted his eyes, catlike, to where John was sitting, noting the tension in the ex-soldier's posture and the nervous tic in his left hand. 

"Yes, John, I am aware who he is. I have met the man after all. What about him?" 

He flicked the page of his newspaper, sharply, to support the air of nonchalance he was trying to project. 

"He's coming to London to see a specialist. For the scarring. There's a Harley Street consultant who thinks an experimental treatment may help."

"Riveting as that is," said Sherlock, his voice sliding lazily across the words, "I hardly think that's the point. Get to it."

John met this with an especially puzzled look. It made him look particularly adorable of course, but that was hardly the point. Sherlock huffed, throwing in another eye roll for effect.

"The point John, get to the point!"

"Oh. Ahh. Yes. Well. He'll be here for three days . He said he'll get a hotel of course. But - I thought maybe, if it was alright, that -"

"That he could stay here? Yes. Of course. You don't need to ask me, John. This is your home too."

"Yes, well. You live here too, you git. Of course I had to ask."

"Hmm. Well then, no objections here. When would he be arriving?"

"Monday week. It'll be for a couple of days, just the initial consultation really."

Sherlock merely grunted and seemed to lose himself in the three day old news, even if the words now all ran together as his mind focussed on other, far more interesting, things. Chief among which, why was John so nervous about asking for his friend to stay? And why did the thought of him staying fill Sherlock himself with a mixture of anticipation - and dread?

 

**Author's Note:**

> I think it's important to note that I intend no disrespect in this fic to anyone who lives with permanent scarring. Or anyone who may have a scar fetish or scar kink in real life. My intention was always to treat the subject sensitively, given limited experience of how it might feel.


End file.
